


Slip of the Thumb

by Novas



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Confession, Drunk Admission of Love, Drunken Admission, F/F, Late Night Conversations, Maybe not so subtle, Mirada on the prowl, Some Swearing, Two Shot, accidental call, confession of love, drunk call, subtle seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-08 09:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14691738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novas/pseuds/Novas
Summary: A very drunk Andrea attempts to call her mom to tell her how in love she is with Miranda and why she left her in Paris, but an unfortunate slip of the thumb moves the call up to none other that Miranda herself. Not realizing that she'd called Miranda instead of her mother, Andy spills her heart out to the woman she's fallen in love with.





	1. Chapter 1

It has been six months since Andrea left Miranda in Paris. Six months of professional bliss. Six months of emotional hell. Andrea loves her job at  _ Mirror,  _ she is finally doing what she came to New York to do. She can finally look at her degree hanging on her shabby apartment wall and smile knowing that she’s doing that degree justice. All of that time, money, and effort that she poured into her degree, the hours at the college newspaper as the editor, it had all paid off. She is an official writer for a newspaper and professionally, she couldn’t be happier. Emotionally? Not so much… Leaving Miranda is the hardest thing Andy had ever done. The woman she loves more than anyone else in the world and she’d just left her. One moment she was there and the next gone.

Andrea knocks back a shot and gestures the bartender for another, her vision swimming as she looks at the bartender who gets her another shot. How many would this make? Ten? Twelve? It didn’t matter, anything to dull the ache in her heart. Her heart that had been broken into thousands of little pieces that day in Paris, at the gala. No matter how hard she tried to forget, she couldn’t forget the look on Nigel’s face when Miranda had stabbed him in the back. Handing over the job he’d worked his entire life for to Jacqueline Follet, not even batting a perfectly curled eyelash as she betrayed him. It was in that moment that Andrea realized that Miranda could drop her just like she did Nigel. To Nigel! Her right hand man for god knows how many years. He stuck by her through thick and thin, through triumph and tragedy, which would be every photo shoot if you asked Miranda. If Miranda could do that to  _ Nigel _ , Andrea didn’t even want to think what Miranda could have done to her. The lowly second assistant. Another shot burns its way down Andrea’s throat and settles heavily in her belly. 

The bartender cuts her off when she waves for another, or had she already had another, she didn’t remember, an irritated huff escapes her lips at being cut off. She pays for her drinks and stumbles towards the door, pleased that she is at least able to dull the ache. It is never gone, but she’d take a dull ache over the painful stab of heartbreak. Why the ache you ask? It’s because Andrea is head over heels in love with Miranda. And Andrea is nothing to her… nothing. Andy feels tears start to fill her eyes as she thinks about Miranda. Her stunningly beautiful face, the strong cheekbones, the flawless skin, sharp chin, regal nose, and those eyes. She could willingly drown in those eyes for all of eternity. Not to mention the myriad of things she wanted to do to Miranda’s lips. Andrea groans and steadies herself against the wall, her heart rate picking up and a heat settingly between her legs just at the thought of the flawless piece of art that Miranda is. Righting herself, Andrea starts her drunken walk back to her apartment only a few blocks away when she suddenly is hit with the need to tell someone,  _ anyone  _ that she loves the woman she means nothing to. She pulls out her cell phone and stumbles when her vision switches from farsighted to near. After steadying herself, Andrea hums a song as she scrolls through her contacts, her eyes zeroing in on mom. Mom! Mom is always willing to listen, she’s the best. Andrea hits the call button after almost dropping her phone, and in the process accidently hitting the up button and selecting Miranda’s name not her mothers.  

Something akin to a snarl escapes Miranda’s lips as her phone rings loudly on her bedside table. “This better be a damn emergency.” Miranda growls and hits the answer button on her cell. “Just what the hell-” She’s promptly cut off when a distraught feminine voice wails, “I love her mom. Oh, god, I know I shouldn’t but I love her.” Miranda, suddenly feeling a lot more awake huffs, “Is this some sort of joke? Do you know just who the hell you’re talking to?!” 

“She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, mom. Miranda.” She sighs and fumbles with her keys to her apartment. “She’s the most damn perfect woman on the face of the- ha! Got it… damn lock...” Miranda eyes narrow and she feels her ire growing. “Who is this?” She demands.

“Mom?” Andrea tilts her head in confusion, didn’t her own mother know the sound of her voice? “It’s me, Andy. Duu-uuh.” Andrea?  “Andrea-” Andrea cuts her off again, only to further Miranda’s ire. “Well, I’m home and  _ gods  _ am I hammered, I just,” Andrea sighs and spills her guts in a fleeting moment of sobriety. “As much as I love her, I know she could’ve dropped me at the drop of a hat. I mean, look what she did to Nigel!” She laughs ruefully. “And I’m  _ nothing _ compared to Nigel. Just the lowly second assistant. Nothing… and that’s why I left. It broke my heart to do it, to leave her all alone at Fashion Week like that, but I had to get out before my feelings grew even more. I thought time away would help.” She hiccups, “but it hasn’t! I’m still just as in love with her as I was six,  _ six  _ months ago. When will my heart stop aching mom?!”  The phone slips from her hands as she wildly gestures, trying to somehow emphasize her point, and it falls on her bed. “Ah fuck.” Andrea swears as she fumbles for the phone, trying to pick it back up again, disconnecting the call in her stumblings. She falls on the bed when she loses her balance and promptly passes out. 

Miranda for her part, is sitting straight up on her bed in complete shock. “Andrea? Hello?” Miranda waits several seconds to see if she responds before looking down at the now black screen. “She hung up on me?! Calls  _ me,  _ tells me that she loves  _ me,  _ and hangs up?! Millennials.” She huffs dismissively. “They have zero mannars.” Andrea’s words finally filters through Miranda’s still slightly sleep addled brain and she stops breathing for a moment, her eyes widening in shock.

“She loves me?” She whispers after several minutes of silence, not believing that the phone call actually happened. “She can’t… she wouldn't have just left me in Paris if she’d loved me, regardless of her silly reasoning. What happened with Nigel was just business and I know she knows that. What a  _ grand  _ declaration of love she made, abandoning me during the busiest week of the year!” Miranda huff/sneers and tosses the phone back on the nightstand before laying back down and trying in vain to fall asleep, Andrea’s admission of love echoing in her ears. “Ridiculous” She mumbles before she finally drifts off to sleep, only an hour before her alarm is set to go off. An unknown, unfamiliar, and possibly unwilling smile tugging at the corners of her normally pursed lips. 

~DWP~

_ I’ve died and gone to hell.  _ Andrea thinks the next morning when she’s finally pulled from her drunken state of unconsciousness.  _ How much did I drink last night?  _ Andrea wonders and assumes that it was a lot, if her throbbing head was anything to go by. She slowly pushes herself off of her bed, groaning when the motion makes her head spin. She presses her clammy, but cool hand to her forehead and slowly shuffles her way to the kitchen where she quickly fills a glass with water, gets out some aspirin, and downs it in one go. For good measure, she has another two glasses of water before heading into her bathroom where she proceeds to peel her clothes off and step under the hot spray of her shower. She stands under the hot water motionless for nearly five minutes before moving again, starting to regain some semblance of thought and reason. A soft hum echoes in the small bathroom as she washes her long brown hair, rinsing it thoroughly before climbing out and wrapping it up in a towel to dry. Feeling decidedly more human, Andrea brushes her teeth and goes to get dressed. It is Saturday, and she didn’t have any deadlines to meet or projects to work on. She had a rare weekend off and she intended to make the most of it. Do her laundry, clean her apartment, and other than that, do absolutely nothing productive all weekend. 

After she’d slipped into her weekend lounge clothes, Andrea picks up her phone to see if she’s received any messages, a frown tugs at her lips when she notices that she apparently had a good seven minute conversation last night with someone. “Who did I call?” She murmurs as her thumbs move over the keys to bring up her call history. Andrea can feel every ounce of blood leave her face and her knees grow weak when she reads the name associated with that seven minute call. “Miranda… oh fuck.” She swears and sinks to the ground when her legs will no longer support her weight. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Anyone but Miranda.” She laments. “Goddamnit, drunk Andrea! Why the hell did you call her?!” If possible, she pales further. “More importantly, what the hell did I  _ say  _ to her?” She whispers and tries to desperately remember what she’d said, but it is no use. Last night is completely blacked out of her memory. Andrea lets herself fall back against her floor and lets out a loud, low, groan, starting to get a headache just thinking about the repercussions that this could have if she’d told Miranda everything. “Jesus Christ, I’m so screwed.” 

~DWP~ 

On Miranda’s end, she woke up in an abnormally good mood. She refused to admit to herself that the source of her good mood is because of what Andrea had confessed to her last night, but she did let herself bask in the knowledge that even at 50 she still had what it took to turn heads and win hearts. However, this one is different. Most hearts that she won, she didn’t want and proceed to ignore whomever was trying to give it to her till they got the idea and buggered off. Andrea on the other hand, she gave Miranda reason to pause, reason to reconsider. She’d seen Miranda at her worst that night in Paris, she’d seen the real Miranda Priestly not the done up editor in chief. Many would argue that they are one in the same, and as much as Miranda would like to admit that it is true, it just isn’t. The Miranda that the world knew is  different from the Miranda that people close to her knew. Andrea had seen both, experienced the wrath and praise of the former, and had seen the defeat of the latter. And still she professed to love her. My, my, what a predicament Miranda found herself in and realized that she had no idea how to proceed.

Did she want Andrea? As a friend? As a lover? Did she  want to reconnect with Andrea and see what could become of them? She took a sip of her scalding hot coffee as she sits down at the kitchen counter, her eyes glazed over as she is lost to her own train of thought. For once in her life, Miranda Priestly did not know what she wanted or what she is going to do about it. For the entirety of her life, she has known exactly what she wanted, and more or less the way to get it. Not that she would ever admit it, but Miranda did have a soft spot for Andrea. She’d been different than all of her other assistants, a good different, a breath of fresh air almost. Andrea had been a sharp contrast to Emily, who worshiped the very ground Miranda walked on. Not that she didn’t revel in that kind of worship, but it is refreshing to have someone who just saw the woman. Not the fashion icon. “Andrea…” Miranda slowly whispers her name, letting the syllables of her name flow off of her tongue and lips, goosebumps erupting over the pale skin of her arms and neck as she speaks. Oh yes, Miranda definitely wanted Andrea, and she wanted her as a lover, greater still, she would move heaven and earth to get her. An almost devilish smile forms on her face as she start to plan just how she would ensnare Andrea in her web.


	2. The Day After

Andrea is halfway through a load of laundry when the knock comes at her door. She flicks off the tv and sets the remote down on the stained coffee table she has in front of her shabby couch and moves to answer the door. She stops momentarily in front of the mirror she has hanging on the wall beside her door and attempts to fix her hair, giving up a moment later. The point of a messy bun is to look messy right? She certainly is sporting a  _ very  _ messy bun. It is held together by an old number two pencil she’d had on her desk, the eraser almost gone and bite marks at the top. With a flick of her wrist she unlocks the dead bolt and opens the door, her jaw dropping when she sees Miranda Priestly on the other side.  _ The _ Miranda Priestly, dressed in only the latest and most exclusive of outfits. A tight black skirt that stops just above the knee doing wonderful things for her ass, a white button up blouse with a black blazer, is it Andrea’s imagination or is it unbuttoned one lower than normal? A beautiful set of matching pearl jewelry around her neck and adorning her ears, and of course, 4 inch prada heels to top the look off. Miranda walks past Andrea without bothering to be invited in and closes Andrea’s still dropped jaw with a ghost of a touch. “Close your mouth dear, you’re not a codfish.” Andrea feels her heart seize at Miranda’s delicate touch. She quickly closes the door and braces herself against the solid wood, blinking rapidly in her attempts to focus.

“W-what are you doing here?” She stammers after several painful moments of silence, once in which Miranda takes a good long look around her apartment, her lips very quick to purse in displeasure. “You actually live here? Don’t they pay you at that new job of yours?” Andrea can feel her cheeks blaze at Miranda’s scrutiny of her apartment and becomes defensive. 

“Yes, of course they pay me!” Andrea huffs indignantly. “This is just what I can afford by myself. If I wanted something better I’d have to get a roommate. For now that is, I’m slowly making a name for myself in journaling and should have a promotion within a year. That’s the plan anyway.” Miranda listens to Andrea’s defence with something akin to a smirk/smile hybrid on her face, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “Well it seems you’ve got your year planned out,  but how about this evening? Do you have plans?” Miranda asks Andrea smoothly who blinks rapidly for a moment. Is it just her or did Miranda’s voice ooze seduction? Check that, her whole self oozed seduction. From the perfectly coiffed hair, down to those sexily clad feet… “Andrea?”

Miranda’s voice snaps Andrea out of her trance, the fading smirk rearing back to full strength when Andrea blushes at being caught unabashedly checking out her former boss. She coughs and brushes some hair out of her face. “I’m sorry what?” She blushes harder at Miranda’s chuckle. “Your aptitude for words is showing my dear Andrea.” Miranda slowly purrs Andrea’s name, smirking once again when she shivers. Oh this is just too fun, Miranda thinks to herself. “I said, ‘Do you have plans for tonight?” Miranda takes a step closer to Andrea who barely manages to hide a whimper at the proximity to what she so desires, the intoxicating smell that is uniquely Mirada completely filling her senses. “I-I-I,” Andrea stammers as Miranda raises her hand to slowly brush a stray hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear. Miranda’s finger leaving fire in their wake, and wreaking havoc on Andrea’s barely firing synapses. Andrea’s eyes flutter shut as Miranda trails her finger slowly down her cheek and jawline, leaning into whisper. “Well?”

Andrea tries not to lean into her touch, but fails miserably. Feeling completely drunk on the sensations Miranda is creating. Andrea swallows hard and slowly opens her now heavy eyelids. “I don’t have plans.” She whispers and leans a fraction of an inch closer to Miranda, their lips separated only by millimeters of air. Miranda slowly and deliberately licks her lower lip and lowers her gaze to look into Andrea’s chocolate brown eyes. Andrea moves to close the distance between them as Miranda places her hands on Andrea’s hips and spins them around and walks towards the door. Andrea stumbles backwards and bumps into the back of the couch, gripping it tightly to hold herself up. “I’ll pick you up at eight then, black tie sort of event. I’ll have your dress brought over later.” Miranda looks over her shoulder at Andrea, enjoying the state that she’s left Andrea in. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes dilated with desire, her chest rising and falling quickly, and the pulse in her neck beating wildly. Miranda winks at her and walks through the open door and seductively purrs, “See you then.” 

When the door closes Andrea sinks to the floor and places her hand over her heart and whispers to her now empty apartment. “Sweet Christ, I have a date with the Devil.” 

 

~DWP~

 

True to her word, one of Miranda’s assistants stops by Andrea’s house several hours later with a dress bag. The young assistant glares at Andrea the entire time, either jealous of whatever designer dress is in the bag, or the fact that Miranda had sent it to Andrea, or both… Probably both. Andrea smiles at the girl and offers a few tips on how to be good assistant to Miranda. The girl, Brooklyn, Andrea finds out, has been working for Miranda only a few weeks and is eager to hear the tips on how to get into Miranda’s good graces. Andrea only chuckles and gives what wisdom she has on the subject. Twenty minutes later when Brooklyn leaves, Andrea takes the dress bag to her room and slowly unzips the bag, extremely excited to see what is in it. 

Inside were four things, the dress, lingerie, shoes, and a note. Andrea feels her cheeks heat up at the sight of the lingerie, wondering if Miranda had personally picked them out and how she knew her measurements. She carefully unpins the note and lifts it up to read.

_ Andrea, _

_ I knew you couldn’t possibly have anything in your closet that could possibly work for our date. Naturally, I had to send the lingerie set as well, nothing but the finest could possibly work under Valentino. I look forward to seeing you tonight. _

Andrea reverently traces her fingers across Miranda’s elegant script, butterflies fluttering inside her. Andrea bites on her thumb nail for a moment before a brilliant smile works across her face. A moment later, the motionless Andrea springs into a dance of joy across her small bedroom. Tossing her hair out of her face, Andrea holds the dress up to examine it. “Oh wow.” She murmurs as she feels the incredibly soft material. “Oh, wow, oh wow.” She squeals softly and sets it down and picks up the lingerie set. It is a black lacy set that looked like it might be one size too small. Something that Andrea could not decide if it is accidental or purposeful. The black lace would just cover her breast up to her nipple, then there are a series of black ribbons that criss cross across the two halves of the bra. With the neckline of the dress the criss crosses would serve to amplify her cleavage and draw attention to it. The heels of course were a perfect match to the dress, completing the look Miranda had in mind. 

This causes Andrea’s mind to wander, where would they be going? Surely not a public setting, Miranda would never expose herself like that with a paramour. Somewhere private, but where? Up scale obviously from the dress. Maybe out to eat at one of the few restaurants where the famous can dine in anonymity. Most likely. Andrea finds that she didn’t really care where they go, as long as she is with Miranda. She glances over at the clock and gasps. It is already 6 o’clock! She only had two hours to get ready. Andrea quickly rushes to the bathroom to begin getting ready.

 

~DWP~

 

On Miranda’s end, she is very calmly getting ready for their date. Mentally going over her plans for the evening. So far, everything had worked out perfectly… If the state she left Andrea in is anything to go by. Miranda is certain she will have Andrea tonight, and finds that the thought never fails to bring a smile to her face. Yes, she thinks Andrea is beautiful and can more than satisfy her in bed, but it is more than that to Miranda. When she thinks of Andrea, she finds she can easily imagine them spending the rest of their lives together. Andrea is one of the few people who can withstand Miranda’s temper and live up to most of her expectations. Moreover, Andrea doesn’t want Miranda for her fame, money, or influence. She genuinely loves the person Miranda is. And to be honest, that scares Miranda a little. Not one person since her rise to fame has wanted Miranda’s attentions because they like Miranda. No one  _ likes  _ Miranda. They like what she can do for them. Andrea is different, and it is refreshing and slightly daunting at the sametime. Whatever will come of their date, Miranda only hopes Andrea will agree to be back in her life in any capacity, just as long as that brilliant smile and doe eyed face is back. 

 

~DWP~

 

At precisely 8 o’clock there is a knock on Andrea’s door. She checks her appearance one more time and is satisfied with what she’s done, and more than slightly proud that the skills she learned at  _ Runway  _ hadn’t completely left her. She may not be the best at makeup, but it was a vast improvement to her skills before. Andrea opens the door and, as before her jaw drops at the sight of Miranda. “W-wow.” Andrea whispers as she looks Miranda up and down. “You look,  _ beyond  _ beautiful.” She says sincerely. “Thank you Andrea.” Miranda purrs. “You look stunning, the dress fits just how I imagined it.” Miranda’s eyes trail from the bottom to the top, her eyes darkening as she pauses to drink in the sight of Andrea’s cleavage and the lingerie that emphasizes it just the way she’d hoped. 

Andrea blushes at the complement, “Thank you Miranda. If I might ask, where are we going tonight?” Miranda only smirks, “You’ll see.” She offers her hand to Andrea who takes it, both of them shivering slightly at the first touch of skin to skin. Miranda walks down to the car with Andrea getting several looks by some people on the street at their appearance and they both slide in, Roy starting to drive as soon as the door has closed. The car ride to their date is one of comfortable silence, neither feeling the need to fill the empty space with small talk. Andrea peers out of the window when the car stops, eyes lighting up when her hunch from earlier is confirmed. They’ll be eating at the Red Jenny _ ,  _ one of the few restaurants in New York where famous people like Miranda can go without the press following. Roy opens the door and Miranda slides out, pleased that the Red Jenny is living up to its reputation by keeping the press away. 

Andrea gets out a few moments later and bites her lip as she slides her hand up Miranda’s arm to her elbow, wrapping her hand around Miranda’s upper forearm and follows her in. Miranda is barely able to hold back a small whimper at Andrea’s touch. Miranda talks to the maitre d’ and they are quickly seated in a private booth. A bottle of white wine is brought to the table only a moment later and their glasses are filled. Miranda thanks the waitress and puts her glasses on to read the menu. Andrea picks hers up and looks over, a blush tainting her cheeks when she has no idea what half of the items on the menu are, and when the waitress comes back to take their order she orders the same as Miranda. Blushing deeply when Miranda flashes her a smirk. She coughs and takes a sip of the cold water and tries to calm the blush in her cheeks. Once she’s sure her blush has died down she looks back up, and promptly chokes on the water in her mouth at the smoldering look Miranda is giving her. She coughs several times to clear her throat while Miranda laughs, something Andrea knew she wanted to her more of, just not at her expense.

She blushes again and groans softly at the chuckle Miranda gives her. “Really, Andrea, do you need lessons in how to properly swallow?” Miranda’s eyes are lit up and playful. “No. I do not thank you.” Andrea retorts and tilts her head up a little and smiles, making Miranda laugh once more. Andrea smiles at her and brings her wine glass up for a sip, and purposefully groans lewdly at the flavor. “This is really good wine.” She comments and smirks when she sees the effect that her groan had on Miranda, who is now looking decidedly warm. “Yes, it is.” Miranda responds after a moment. Their food is quickly brought out to them and the begin to eat. The first ten minutes are quiet as they both enjoy most of their food. Miranda is the first one to break the silence. “I had the most interesting conversation with a former assistant of mine last night, at a rather ungodly hour, however, the content of this particular conversation more than made up for the hour.” Andrea’s cheeks blaze at the not so subtle reprimand. “R-really? With who?” Right, good job Sachs play dumb. Because that’ll fool her. Andrea mentally rolls her eyes at herself. 

Miranda smirks, “The only assistant that’s ever willingly left me, abandoned me is more like it, but how she has flourished away from me.” Her voice gets weaker as she finishes her sentence, doubt once more creeping into the edges of her thoughts. “I may have flourished professionally,” Andrea starts weakly and looks up at Miranda through her lashes, “But these past six months have been emotional hell without you, Miranda. I… I came to depend on you just as much as you did me. I’ve missed seeing you everyday, while I haven’t missed how demanding you are, I’ve missed working with you and just interacting with you. I miss you Miranda.” Andrea says after a moment, gathering her courage to wear her feelings on her sleeve. 

Miranda reaches over to grab Andrea’s hand and threads their fingers together. “I’ve missed you too Andrea, so much.” Miranda whispers. “And-” She blushes, “I fell in love with you too. You’re dazzling smile, brilliant mind, quick wit, gorgeous body… I’ve missed you so terribly Andrea, please-” Her voice trembles slightly with emotion. “Please don’t leave me again.” She swallows hard. “I don’t think I could bear it again.” Andrea is filled with guilt, not imagining her leaving would have had this effect on Miranda. “Never again.” She whispers.

“I’ll be here for as long as you can put up with me.” Andrea says with tears in her eyes. “I love you so much Miranda.” Miranda feels her heart swell at the words. “You mean it? It was not just some drunken mistake?” Andrea stands and walks over to Miranda’s side of the booth and slides in beside her and gingerly takes Miranda’s face between her hands. “I. Love. You. Miranda. Priestly.” She whispers and brushes her lips so delicately across Miranda’s with each word. Miranda’s hands come up quickly to pull Andrea firmly against her and to kiss her properly. The world seems to fade away as they kiss, all of the pent up emotions and desires being channeled through the kiss. Miranda pulls away a minute later, her cheeks flushed, eyes dilated, and breathing hard. She swallows hard and whispers breathlessly, “Perhaps we should take this back to my apartment? And continue in a more private location? Say, my bedroom?” 

“Oh, yes  _ please _ .” 

_ Fin. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd continue to when they go back to Miranda's place, but I can't write smut to save my life.   
> I hope you enjoyed reading this, leave a comment if you'd like. Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve only recently discovered the DWP fandom and I’ve been obsessed over this particular paring. This is my first time writing for this fandom and I’d like to know what you think. Please R&R. I think I found the prompt on a tumblr page, I can't remember.


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